Failure to Match: An Enemies to Lovers Billionaire Matchmaker Romance

Jackson insisted we continue the conversation back at his home office, over drinks. He said he “needed time to gather his thoughts and solidify his arguments.”

I called bullshit. He knew exactly what his arguments were, he just wanted to change the location to somewhere more comfortable and whiskey my inhibitions away—make me more agreeable.

It wasn’t going to work. But it was 7 p.m., I was exhausted, and a drink didn’t sound so bad. So, I agreed.

That was my first mistake.

My second was letting him sit beside me on the couch instead of quite literally anywhere else. I should have known better. He smelled so good it made me stupid.

“Here.”

“What is it?” I eyed the cloudy liquid in the tumbler he’d handed me. It had an impressive layer of smooth foam on the top.

“The best whiskey sour in the country.”

Really, truly, the man’s ego knew no bounds. I took a small, doubtful sip.

Damn it.

He chuckled, presumably reading my mind. I didn’t know if it was the best whiskey sour in the country, but it was the best one I’d ever had. He’d perfected it.

“A pretty solid point in my favor, wouldn’t you agree?” he teased as he settled beside me—way too close. “Think about it, you come home at the end of a long day, exhausted, and your husband makes you a fresh cocktail while you vent.”

I wouldn’t have a job to come home from if I married him, but all right, sure. I nodded.

“And if I’m not here, your staff will be.”

I raised a brow. “My staff…”

“You really haven’t thought this through, Jamie.” He twisted on the couch to face me, arm slung over the backrest. “One year of marriage and you’d never have to lift a finger again in your life.”

I turned so that we were face to face. “Quick reminder that I’ve turned down all of your previous monetary⁠—”

“I’d stop reminding me of that if I were you.”

“Why?”

He leaned in to whisper his answer like it was a secret. “Because you’ve managed to awaken something rather odd in me. The more you turn down my money, the more… inclined I become to want to spend it on you.”

I blinked. “That’s incredibly irrational.”

“I’m aware.” He sipped his drink. “You wanted a list of my kinks? There’s your first one.”

My third mistake was asking, “People rejecting your money is a kink for you?”

“No, Jamie, you rejecting my money is a kink for me.”

Fireflies infiltrated my chest. My oxygen levels tanked. “That’s…” Nonsensical. Inappropriate. Probably a lie. “A quick FYI—friends don’t have kinks centered around their friends, and if they do, they keep that information to themselves.”

He cocked his head. “Do friends kiss the way we did yesterday?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that anymore.”

“Tell me you didn’t like it and I’ll never bring it up again.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. “Whether I liked it or not isn’t the point.”

“Ah, but you see, it very much is the point—my next one, in fact.” He gestured lightly between us. “This works.”

“What works?”

“Our bodies. They’re quite into each other.”

Were hot flashes in your late twenties a cause for medical concern? Because I’d been experiencing a noticeable number of them lately. “I’m not sure that’s accurate.”NôvelDrama.Org content.

One good kiss was just that—one good kiss. It didn’t mean every subsequent one would be earth-shattering.

With a cheeky smirk, Jackson polished off his whiskey, got rid of the empty tumbler, and held out his palm. “Give me your hand.”

“I think I’m good. Friends don’t really hold hands.”

He chuckled. “Just humor me for a moment, would you?”

With a strangely nervous sip of my drink, I placed my fingers in his palm.

That was my fourth mistake.

His hand engulfed mine, sending a buzz over my skin that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Then he did something I wouldn’t have predicted in a million years.

Jackson Sinclair guided my hand forward and pressed it to his chest. Over his heart.

Over his rapidly beating heart.

“Now feel what happens when I do this.” Without warning, he leaned in and brushed a kiss over my cheek.

My body went up in flames.

His pulse jumped under my palm.

“You feel that?” His hot breath grazed my skin, making me shiver. “It likes you.”

I went rigid. Blinked. “I… pardon?”

He didn’t know what he was saying. He didn’t understand what “my heart likes you” could be interpreted as, surely.

“My whole body likes you.”

“Jackson…” This was officially too much. We’d crossed another line, and I really didn’t see how we could find our way back from this one.

“Use your safeword, Jamie.” My lashes fluttered when he brushed his lips over my jaw.

I meant to use it, I swear. It was why I opened my mouth in the first place. But he nipped at my earlobe just as I was about to thread the correct letters together, and what came out was a ruptured whimper.

“Say it,” he demanded unreasonably. “Tell me to fuck off.”

I would if he’d just stop nibbling on my skin like that for a second. It was so… distracting. And pleasant.

So, so, so pleasant. Why was it so pleasant?

Before I knew what’d even happened, my half-empty glass was discarded, Jackson had looped a muscled arm around my waist, and I was seated comfortably on his lap.

Oh, and my hand was still clamped to his racing chest.

“Is this so bad?” he teased. “Would a year of this be so horrible, Jamie?”

“This is… so inappropriate.”

“You know how to make it stop.” His nose brushed over the shell of my ear, and I quivered against him.

I should’ve insisted we had this conversation back in his office. So many mistakes had been made in such quick succession.

“Tell me some more about how you don’t want my money, so I can tell you exactly how spoiled you’d be as my wife.” He placed a searing kiss on my neck, then nipped at the spot with his teeth. “You wouldn’t have a choice. I’d put it in our marriage contract. You wouldn’t be allowed to say no to me buying you things.”

In my defense, I hadn’t meant to break him like this.

“Jackson—”

“I’m not done.” His eyes were black when he pulled his head back to look at me, his heart pounding against my hand. It was fucking intoxicating. “You’d have your own staff, I’d gift you apartments, clothes, company shares. You’d be financially secure for the rest of your life. What more could you possibly want?”

“I…” I had nothing.

“See?” His midnight gaze dropped to my mouth. “It’s a fantastic deal, so take it.”

I swallowed. “No.”

With a frustrated growl, he pulled me flush against him—pressed me right to his raging erection. It drenched my brain in charged static.

“What else do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m not going to marry you.”

I was panting. He was panting. There was no breathable air left in the whole house.

He licked his lips, cheeks reddening with… either lust or rage. I couldn’t be sure. “Then say the word.”

“No.” The rebellious little quip slipped out of me before I could stop it. There was something so unbelievably thrilling about not giving Jackson exactly what he wanted.

It was like standing at the very edge of a cliff with no harness on. Or toying with fire.

His gaze was borderline feral. Still, he couldn’t fully hold back his smile, no matter how hard he kept trying. “You like being a little tease, Jamie?”

Without waiting for an answer, his hand slipped a little too high up my skirt, edging up the fabric.

Whoa, okay.

Now would have been the seventh most perfect time to put a stop to the destructive path we’d set ourselves on.

“I asked you a question.” His fingers inched up and up, ruining me with gentle caresses. “Do you enjoy teasing me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm.” I shook my head innocently, desperately clinging on to his shirt. My nails were going to leave permanent bites in the crisp fabric.

“Telling me I have the personality of a hardboiled egg… calling me predictable… refusing to obey the simplest commands…”

“You’re a dom, I get it,” I panted. His fingers were dangerously close to discovering just how much I didn’t hate this.

“Am I?”

“Typical, seeing as how you’re such a control freak.”

He chuckled darkly. “You’re so fucking mean.”

I’d have laughed too if he hadn’t chosen that exact moment to brush the edge of my soaked panties with his finger. I swallowed back the moan that tore through my chest, stopping it just in time.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me, Jamie. I’d like to tease you properly.” His fingers kept brushing the seam of my underwear, dousing me in dark lust and liquid fire.

This was it. If I listened to him, it would be a clear indication that I wanted it. I’d be saying it without actually saying it.

“Come on. Show me what a good girl you can be.”

Fuck me.

Who the hell would have guessed that Jackson Sinclair, of all people, was into dirty talk? And teasing?

My thighs inched open for him, my last bit of rationality melting into need.

“That’s it,” he purred approvingly. “It’s going to feel so good when I finally touch you properly, isn’t it?”

I whimpered when he drew a knuckle up my seam and mercilessly pressed it into my clit. Even through the cotton fabric, the shock of pleasure hit hard enough to make me shudder.

Jackson tsked. “Needy little thing. You’d need to be fucked regularly if we got married, wouldn’t you?”

I wanted to point out that he’d very specifically told me that he wasn’t going to have a sexual relationship with his wife, but the words withered into a desperate whimper when he pinched my clit over my panties.

Then he did it again—harder this time.

I choked on a gasp. “Ohmygod.”

“Let’s go over the rules again, shall we?” His fingers teased my slick inner thighs, tracing fire over my skin. “What do you say if you want me to stop what I’m doing?”

“Strawberry,” I managed.

“And what happens if you tell me ‘no’ instead? What if you beg me to stop without using your special word?”

I swallowed, my thighs quivering. “You keep going.”

“Do you agree with those terms?” he teased, trailing kisses over my jaw.

I shouldn’t have wanted it. Not only was he a client, but his “terms” probably should have freaked me out, made me want to push off his lap and run. He really was one giant walking red flag.

Yet I’d never been so turned on in my life. “Yes.”

His heart raced against my hand, a harsh breath shoving out of him. “Good girl.”

My lashes fluttered.

“You know what I’ve been wondering since the first time you insulted me?” His fingers continued to explore my inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin with featherlight touches. “Take a guess.”

I was not nearly lucid or coherent enough for that. “Just tell me.”

He licked his lips again and I almost blacked out. “I’ve been dying to know if your pussy is as pretty as the rest of you.”

His accent was so sexy, his voice so deliciously deep. I couldn’t handle it.

I had to close my eyes for a moment to gather myself. When I opened them again, he was watching me with that evil, knowing smirk pulling at his gorgeous mouth.

“Will you show me?” he murmured.

He couldn’t be serious. He wanted me to… actually, I didn’t really know what he wanted me to do.

“Stand up,” he ordered softly.

“Someone might walk in.”

“I’ve instructed the staff to stay out of this wing and security cameras have been turned off. I told you I don’t share, Jamie. You’re for my eyes only. Now… stand up. Show me how good you are at following instructions.”

My heart was pounding so hard it was making me dizzy. After a few seconds of hesitation, I gently pushed onto my shaky feet and stood between his knees.

“Good girl.” His throat worked with a hard swallow as his gaze raked over me. He cupped his generous bulge. “Pull up your skirt.”

His commands were starting to push a very specific button in the back of my subconscious, and the resulting rush was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I did as I was told, bunching up my skirt with trembling fingers, until the fabric was gathered around my hips.

Jackson squeezed himself over his pants, his gaze heavy, chest rising and falling with effort. Like he was just as affected by all this as I was. It was quite possibly the hottest thing I’d ever witnessed.

“Now… pull your panties aside and show me how pretty you are.”

Non-horny Jamie was going to hate me for this. I’d cringe and kick blankets over it for the rest of my fucking life. I knew this for certain, and I still went ahead and did it.

With a shaky breath, I pulled the dark, damp cotton to one side.

His eyes went black.

I was pretty sure he’d been expecting me to say no, to fight him on it. My compliance pulled a pleased rumble from the depths of his chest, and he tugged on himself, tongue darting out to wet his lips again. “Show me properly, Jamie. Let me see that sweet little clit.”

This had gotten so out of hand. I had no idea what I was doing, or why I was doing it. I just knew that it felt incredible. There was real power in this—in having someone look at you like… like that. Jackson may have been the one giving out instructions, but he was just as helpless against this as I was. He looked lost, dazed, fully focused and entirely out of it all at once.

And when I delicately pulled myself apart for him, he groaned, shifting on the couch as a small spot on his tailored trousers darkened with lust.

My knees were seconds away from crumbling.

Like your career.

I blinked, panic blooming in my chest. Yet my feet stayed firmly rooted in place.

“You’re being such a good fucking girl.” His voice was dark, crisp, breathless. Almost like he was in pain. “Shall I make the rest of my case while you stand there and pretend like it’s not everything you want? Or do you think your pussy will give you away?”

I was well beyond forming even one word, let alone a full sentence.

“I’d like an answer. Shall we discuss just how spoiled you’d be as my wife? How I’d buy you diamonds just so I could fuck you in them?” If he licked his lips one more time I was going to go into cardiac arrest. “I’d make you the envy of every woman in the world, Jamie, even if it was against your will. And with a clit that sweet… the ways I would torture you. You’d look so fucking pretty all tied up for me, blushing and begging for mercy with all those diamonds wrapped around your neck. I’d ruin you.”

I clenched. Visibly, according to the evil smirk it earned me.

“Would you like that? Would you like being tied up and at my mercy?” When I didn’t respond, he said, “What if I forced you to pick out the toy you’d be tortured with every night? What if I made you wait for me on my bed, kept you on the phone while you edged yourself and begged your husband to come home early from work?”

Another whimper. Another clench. I was dripping down my thighs.

He noticed.

“Should I give you a little preview of what it would be like if you were my wife? What do you think?”

Every time he said wife, my stomach clenched. He kept putting a possessive emphasis on the word, and it pleased the lusty little monster he’d awakened in me.

When I didn’t respond, Jackson leaned forward until his face was inches away from my throbbing clit. “God, just fucking look at you, keeping yourself spread for me. You really are pretty everywhere, aren’t you?” There was enough awe and praise in his voice to last me a lifetime. “You’re dripping all the way down your thighs, sweet girl. You must be in agony.”

My brain was drenched in enough flammable static to reduce my comprehension levels to a bare-fucking-minimum, but I was pretty sure he’d just called me sweet girl.

I was even more sure it made me clench again. My core was scorched.

Jackson ran two knuckles up my inner thigh, gathering the slick evidence of my lust. “What I’d do to see myself spilling out of you like this… you have no fucking idea. It’s very quickly becoming another one of my kinks.”

The visual slammed into me like a ball of fire, making my head spin.

“What do you think, sweet girl? You want to know what it feels like to take a full load of my cum in your perfect pussy?” He cocked his head to one side when I whimpered, running his knuckles over my slick skin again. “If you keep making those noises, it’ll be two loads, darling. My cock likes them a little too much. You think your pretty little cunt can handle being fucked twice in one night?”

Before I could even think to talk myself out of it, my mouth was moving. “I’m on birth control. Tested and everything.” Translation: YES. PLEASE.

He didn’t need to give me his answer. Charmed required their clients to be tested every three months. Jackson’s results were in his file; clear as of two weeks ago.

“What if I was rough with you?” he pushed. “Do you think you could handle being held down and fucked hard? Could your pussy take it?”

It was like I was see-through. He was smashing all my secret buttons one by one. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

What little oxygen my lungs had managed to retain rushed out of them when he slipped his knuckles into his mouth and licked away my arousal.

He fucking groaned when he did it, eyes shutting momentarily with ecstasy.

“Fucking peaches,” he muttered darkly, going back for more.

Was I going to die here? Because it kind of felt like it.

“Fuck, I want to lick your little clit so fucking bad.” He adjusted himself as his tongue flicked over his fingers, cleaning them off again. The little spot of precum seeping through his pants had spread. “You’re all swollen and glistening for me, darling, practically begging to be tortured.”

Perfect.

Great.

So why wasn’t he doing it?

“Do you want that? Do you want my tongue on your pussy, giving you a little taste of how fucking spoiled you’d be as my wife?”

I hummed instead of answering—wasn’t entirely confident I could speak anymore.

Jackson tsked. “You need to answer my questions if you want to be touched again.”

I swallowed in an attempt to stop my voice from cracking when I answered him. “Yes.”

“Yes, what, darling? What is it you want? Tell me.”

In what world did he imagine I could weave that many sentences together while he was looking at me like that? I tried to focus, gathering my thoughts so I could create something coherent out of them, but there were so many different things my body wanted. He’d broken some sort of kinky dam in my soul and the flood was overwhelming.

I wanted too much, and I didn’t know how to communicate it.

So why don’t you show him?

That… I could do that.

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I lowered to my knees in front of him. He released a breath as he watched me, his gaze heavy with desire.

“Can I show you instead?” I whispered.

He tipped my chin up, the one side of his gorgeous mouth slanting up. “You can do whatever you want. Spoiled wives don’t hear the word ‘no’ very often, Jamie. We might as well get you used to it.”

It was like I’d crossed some sort of invisible barrier into an alternate reality sometime over the last week. Not only was Jackson Sinclair trying to convince me to marry him, but it was starting to turn me on.

Like… a lot.

My tongue darted out as I ran my palms over his hard thighs, when I reached his abs, I gave them a little push. It was like trying to nudge a boulder. He chuckled, obeying my silent command. When his back hit the cushion, I leaned in and placed a soft, innocent little kiss at the base of his bulge.

A low, pleased sound rolled out of his chest. He brushed a stray curl away from my forehead and slid closer, giving me better access.

My confidence grew and I continued placing kisses over the fabric covering his impressive length, until I reached the little wet spot of desire. Then I licked it.

His inhale was sharp, startled, empowering.

He gaped down at me, brows pulling together like he couldn’t believe what I’d just done. So, I leaned forward again and kissed the same spot, before parting my lips and suckling on the fabric.

“Oh, fuck…” His head fell back, then immediately snapped up again, like he’d realized he didn’t want to miss a single second of the visual.

My fingers itched to unzip him. I wanted to take him into my mouth and blow his mind through his dick, but… what if I teased him just a little more first?

With a cheeky smirk, I ran my mouth over him again, giving him little kisses and licks along the way until he was panting, gaze drunk with need.

“Okay, enough, just—” He cut off with a loud, vibrant groan when I turned my head and grazed my teeth over his full length, teasing him through the fabric. “Fuuuuck.”

When I reached the tip and gave it a little extra attention, his hips bucked. His fists were white against the dark velvet couch.

This hadn’t been the plan. I hadn’t thought about teasing him for this long; the point of doing this was to show him what I wanted, not melt his brain. But… what if I kept going until he broke? How much could he take before he snapped, pinned me on the couch, and fucked me into the cushions with unforgiving vengeance?

My core purred at the thought, a thrill swirling up my torso.

I reached for his belt, continuing to kiss him as I unbuckled it. His thighs were tense under me, his breathing shallow. It hitched when I unzipped him, and again when I pulled his briefs down, and—oh… my god.

His cock was beautiful.

Yup. I officially knew what Jackson Sinclair’s cock looked like, and it was beautiful. Long, thick, perfectly curved, and topped with a regal crown. Like the rest of him, it was also huge. I’d never been with someone this big before. It was probably going to hurt.

With that exciting thought, I grabbed him with gentle fingers and delicately angled him toward my mouth. I didn’t have a grip on him—wouldn’t even give him that much. Just the smooth touch of my fingertips to keep him where I wanted.

“Jamie.”

Ignoring him, I pressed a sweet kiss to that one sensitive spot right under his crown, then stroked it with the tip of my tongue.

His lungs deflated. He was leaking so much already; it was incredibly satisfying.

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice was barely human, it was so charred and thick.

“What am I doing?” I asked lightly, mesmerized by the pearly precum trailing down his shaft. Not wanting to let it go to waste, I licked it off his skin, practically purring when his salty, masculine taste caressed my tongue.

I was so far gone—didn’t even recognize myself anymore.

More precum. This time, I went straight for the source and gently suckled it out of his gorgeous, angry tip.

“Jesus.” He bucked instinctively, trying to get more of himself in my mouth. I didn’t allow it, but I did tease his leaking slit with the tip of my tongue. The noise it earned me hit me right in the primal, lizard part of my brain.

What little reservation I had left about what we were doing snapped like a stale cracker. I started spoiling his cock with soft licks and open-mouthed kisses, making sure to capture every last drop of precum I teased out of him. When my focus shifted to his balls, his patience unraveled.

“Enough.” It was a command.

“I thought you said I could do what I wanted,” I teased. “This is what I want.”

His groan shattered into breathless pieces when I gently suckled him again. It was so fucking addicting. Jackson Sinclair, one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world was breaking in front of me, and all I was doing was teasing him with feather-light flicks of my tongue.

“Jamie…” He was fraying at the edges. His cheeks were flushed, eyes completely out of focus, and every time I licked him, he leaked a little more for me. Hottest experience of my life.

“Please don’t make me stop,” I begged delicately. “I like tasting you like this.”

“Then open your mouth and do it properly.”

Nah. This was more fun for me.

“Is this how you really want to play this?” he asked.

Yes. Yes, it was.

“Last chance. Open your mouth.” His voice had grown dangerously dark. It was delicious. “I’ll even shoot down your pretty throat as a reward and fuck you extra hard as punishment.”

Nope.

I gave him a slow lick before tracing the tip of my tongue over the protruding vein running raggedly over⁠—

With a fractured growl, Jackson fisted my hair and lifted my head off his dick. It didn’t hurt, but it was firm enough to make me vibrate.

I was on the couch before I could so much as blink, pinned to the cushions the way I’d wanted. But instead of shoving my panties to the side and thrusting into me with revenge, he yanked them off, hooked his arms under my thighs, locked me in place, and dove in tongue-first.

I gasped, my back arching at the shock of sensation. He wasted no time. None.

There were no teasing licks or promising kisses. He went straight for my clit and roughly sucked it into his scorching mouth, groaning with angry satisfaction when he got what he wanted.

I was panting and squirming against him within seconds, spiraling up to the edge of orgasm at breathtaking speed. I needed him to slow down. “Jackson, I⁠—”

His growl of pleasure vibrated against my clit, making my vision sway. He was licking and sucking me like a man starved, and… it took less than a minute. I screamed when the orgasm hit, my fists tightening in his hair as my spine curved and the world spun.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

I saw stars. They twinkled and danced and nipped at my skin and I’d never flown so high or crashed so hard in my life. My entire body shook with the release. My lungs seized, my throat constricted, my stomach quivered, and THIS was what an orgasm was supposed to feel like? How the fuck had I been doing them so wrong for so long?

And why the fuck wasn’t Jackson stopping?

He didn’t slow down, didn’t come up for air, didn’t even stutter. His arms remained locked around my thighs, keeping them wide open so he could continue to eat me out without interruption.

The oversensitivity kicked in within seconds.

“Oh, f—Jacks—shit—stopstopstop.”

He did no such thing.

And it… I loved it. This was officially my favorite game.

He fucked me with his tongue, groaning like he was enjoying it far too much to ever relent. At some point during all of this, he’d moved off the couch and was now kneeling in front of it, angling my hips to give his mouth better fucking access.

I tried to nudge him away, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. Even when he was kneeling like this his frame was so intimidating, so imposing, so unbelievably powerful and sexy.

His eyes were on my face, drinking in every bit of pleasure and agony his mouth was inflicting as I whimpered and mewled my complaints. It played to my deepest, darkest desires, knowing he wasn’t going to relent until I used my safeword.

Soon, the pain morphed back into pleasure, and my half-hearted attempts at pushing him off turned into my fingers fisting his hair again, pulling him closer as my hips ground against his mouth with shameless need. He was so good at this. I’d never been with a man who was so enthusiastic about oral.

“Oh god, Jackson, that feels… I’m gonna… again.”

The tingles were already spreading, nipping at my everything as I fought for air. It hit me just as hard as the first, forcing my limbs to curl and contort with excruciating ecstasy.

I could not believe how much I’d been missing out on. I needed better toys.

I was chanting his name, panting and shuddering through the incessant aftershocks his tongue was tormenting me with.

But again, he didn’t stop. He lapped at my pussy, unwilling to let a single drop of my orgasm go to waste.

I tried again to push him off, half because I physically could not take the torture, and half because feeling helpless against his unyielding hold turned me on even more. I was really into the whole power imbalance thing, apparently. Who the fuck could have guessed⁠—

He bit my clit.

Sucked on it.

Bit it again.

Flicked it with his tongue, groaned, and I was done.

I cried out, tears springing to my eyes as my muscles seized—a little painfully this time. It felt fucking amazing. Even the pain was incredible. It amplified the pleasure, melted my insides into quivering goo, made me choke and gasp and beg for mercy.

The pleading only encouraged him. It made him more ruthless and starved, not less. So, obviously, I kept doing it.

“Jackson, please. Pleasepleaseplease. Fuck. Please. I can’t.” I couldn’t.

Yet I did.

Another orgasm slashed through me, making me cry out in more pain, more pleasure, and oh my god, I really was going to die tonight. Willingly and from too many orgasms inflicted on me by Jackson Sinclair’s wicked, ravenous mouth.

I wasn’t even tempted to use my safeword. There was something so seductively pleasurable about this that it made all the agony worth it. Maybe because I wasn’t the only helpless one.

Jackson was eating me out like he needed it. He was about as out of control as I was, and that’s what made it so seductive.

I blinked down at him, willing my vision back into focus. He was watching me with such intense, feral concentration that it stole my breath. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip, tugging at it as my hips began grinding again.

I’d be picturing this exact scene every time I reached for my vibrator for the next… for the rest of my life. Jackson Sinclair on his knees, biceps bulging as he kept my thighs splayed wide open for his licking and sucking pleasure.

I moaned his name, reveling in its subtle impact on his physical demeanor. He worked me faster, watched me more closely, forced my thighs wider. I didn’t have the words to describe how desired and attractive it made me feel. I was drunk with it.

Lost in the overwhelming intensity of the moment, I reached down and used my fingers to peel myself open for him like before. I did it without thinking, wanting to please him and let him know how good this was. That he could take as much of me as he wanted.

He fucking lost it.

His hips bucked into the couch, shoving it back as a vicious growl ripped out of his lungs. Something clattered, something else smashed, he didn’t seem to notice. His tongue thrust into me with feral need, his grip becoming rough enough to leave a few delicious bruises on my skin. Well-fucking-worth it.

“Jackson…”

He shuddered with a deep, soul-crushing groan, and shut his eyes for a beat, his movements becoming increasingly wild and desperate. It was so hot. I was close again… so, so close. Just… a little…

I came against his searing tongue with a broken cry, and he bucked again, his muscles tensing as he licked me into permanent incoherence. And then he was shuddering against me, choking out groans while he shook and shook and shook.

It went on forever.

Until, finally, it stopped, and he peeled his mouth away.

I was liquid. A whimpering, blubbering puddle of numb liquid.

“Fuck…” he breathed, his grip finally loosening as his head collapsed onto my stomach. He was heaving. “Jesus…”

We stayed like that for minutes. Or maybe it was hours. I couldn’t tell the difference anymore; didn’t really care to.

“Jamie.”

“Mmmm.”

“You all right?”

No. He’d broken me. How was I ever supposed to have sex with another man, knowing it would never—could never—live up to what I’d just experienced?

An unpleasant shiver snaked through my limbs when Jackson lifted himself, selfishly taking all the heat with him. I was too sore and sensitive to close my thighs, so they stayed wide open as he cupped one side of my face and tilted it in his direction. “You okay?”

I blinked sleepily up at him, the sight slow to register. My slick arousal was all over his mouth and chin, his hair was ruffled, eyes hooded and glassy.

So sexy…

“Jamie. I need to know if you’re good.”

I was getting there, damn. Gathering every last molecule of energy I had left in this lifetime, I forced myself to swallow. “So good.”

A slow, devastating grin spread over his evil, talented mouth. “You liked that, did you?”

“Mmnmhm,” I confirmed. There was a chance I’d never be able to move or speak ever again.

“C’mere, sweet girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Yeah, I wasn’t gonna be able to move for—oh. Never mind. He was doing all the work for me, gathering me in his arms, lifting me from the couch. How nice. I’d thank him in my next life, just as soon as I regained the ability to speak.

I was curled up against him like a drowsy kitten as he carried me upstairs, keeping me pressed to his chest while he whispered sweet little praises in my ear.

I was such a good girl.

A sweet girl.

I’d done so well.

He was so pleased with me.

He was going to take such good care of me now.

I deserved it.